


From the Neck Up

by insominia



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 23:47:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11474187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/insominia/pseuds/insominia
Summary: After travelling the Mojave and fighting at the Dam, all Courier Six wants to do is settle down. But the path of true love rarely runs smooth, and not all love is romantic.





	From the Neck Up

**Author's Note:**

> Originally on the NFKM, now found here https://newfalloutkinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/1168.html?thread=135056#cmt135056

  
The first time the woman known as Courier Six got married, or at least, the first time she that she remembered, she married a professional gambler in a back room of the NCR embassy. A grateful Ambassador Crocker performed the ceremony, Veronica came out of the bunker to act as a bridesmaid and was infinitely impressed by the beautiful dress Six's paramour presented her, for the occasion. Arcade offered to give the bride away, something which seemed unnecessary, given that the 'aisle' such as it was, was three steps long. After Crocker finished the ceremony, Six's husband kissed her lovingly and promised to lavish her with love and attention for the rest of their lives together. And for the courier who had woken up with no memory, in a hole in Goodsprings, who had fought a bloody fight against the Legate himself, who had often spoke of the settled life she would have after the Dam. Always ' _after the dam_ ', she could say without irony that it was indeed the happiest day of her life.   
  
They had a reception in the cocktail lounge of the Lucky 38. The wine flowed freely, snacks littered every surface and Six and her husband flushed with the joy of new-found love. The groom toasted his wife and everyone cheered when he swept her into his arms and kissed her. Six thanked everyone for coming and raised a glass to absent friends; the super mutant who wandered, the ghoul keeping the wastes safe from bandits, the caravaneer getting drunk out West and the sniper on active duty.   
  
For a time they were happy. But the delight they found in each other soon faded. He talked a lot, which was fine, until he expected her to talk back. Six was one for few words, and travelling the Mojave in the company of an even less vocal sniper had hardly developed her conversational skills. He felt their silence was indicative of a larger problem; Six didn't know they  _had_  a problem until she found him in bed with a Gomorrah prostitute. She'd called him a liar and a cheat. He'd screamed that at least someone talked to him, even if she was paid for the effort.   
  
They divorced in silence, mourned in silence and even Arcade found he had little to say on the matter.

* * *

 

The courier met her second husband outside the Lucky 38. An NCR MP who had the sad duty of rounding up the drunker and rowdier troopers. She made a quip as she passed him, he laughed; a genuine sincere laugh. She smiled at him, he smiled back and four months later they were married.   
  
Nothing could have been more different from her first wedding. They were married in the Ultra Luxe; Six claiming she wanted to do things right this time. She bleached a pale dress until it was white, or as close to white as the Mojave had ever seen. Veronica emerged once more, dressed elegantly in pale green to match the cactus greens dotted around the sumptuous room, though privately she mused it was not as nice as her last bridesmaid dress. Arcade took the courier's arm and walked her down the aisle to the strings of Vivaldi, and Cass surprised them all by sending them a caravan laden with delicacies for the reception, including a veritable crate of moonshine.   
  
The groom, a man of few words, did not make a speech, but Six toasted absent friends; the super mutant who wandered, the ghoul keeping the wastes safe from bandits, the caravaneer getting drunk out West and the sniper on active duty. They were not as giddy as the couple at the first wedding. Six and he exchanged private smiles and whispered endearments. When they retired to the Bon Vivant suite, they made love tenderly, and her husband promised to love her with his body rather than poetry.   
  
They lasted less time than her first marriage. They loved each other, even to the end, but that just made it harder. The comfortable silence Six had envisioned for them could only work when they knew what the other was thinking. The silence that pervaded the '38 this time was just that. Affection gave way to strained politeness and the joy turned to sadness as they both realised was happening, but knew of no way to prevent it.

* * *

 

Craig Boone was one week from being discharged when Cass told him the news. Six and her second husband had divorced in silent tears in a grim room in the NCR embassy. He'd known of her first husband too. Six talked to Arcade, Arcade wrote to Veronica, Veronica traded with Cass' caravans and Cass herself usually saw Boone every few months out West, at the NCR base he was stationed. Boone had thought about writing to his old partner, but would never have known what to say had he successfully put pen to paper. The information only flowed one way anyway. Boone listened to Cass, but never spoke about himself. Cass didn't speak to the returning caravaneers either, though she occasionally radioed Veronica. Veronica wrote to Arcade, mostly Brotherhood related news and reminiscing, and so Arcade had little to tell Six on the subject of old friends. Not that she minded much, she knew where they all were and that was enough for her. She had known nothing specific of Boone since he had re-enlisted after Hoover Dam, though she knew he was alive at least. They had both spent half a day at McCarran filling out form after form to name her his next of kin.   
  
She assumed  _he_  had not married. Though it were not for lack of interest. More than one trooper/ranger/grunt and one poor runner who hedged his bets and lost, had offered to buy him a drink over the years. He'd not accepted, even from the ones he might have interested in, for a while at least. After that, the memory of Carla had seemed less potent. He still missed her, he'd always love her, but with time and a hefty number of dead legionaries under his belt, he started having drinks and everything that went with it. It never went anywhere. They inevitably faded out of his life when they realised he simply was not interested in pursuing them, or they found him gone in the morning, hitting the desert sands with his regiment.   
  
Boone had two sniping partners during his tenure. The first was coming to the end of his tour and broke Boone into the way of things easily enough. Respectful, trustworthy if not particularly friendly, Boone saw him off with a brief handshake and never spared him a second thought. His second would be his partner until the day he discharged. She was a good soldier, a credit to first recon. She and Boone had worked well, better than well together. He had known he'd break her heart from the moment she'd held her hand out to shake on their first assignment. She'd known it too and said as much at the time; it didn't stop either of them.   
  
Everything she did reminded him of Six, even when his mind should have been on other things. She was a better shot than the courier, and a much better spotter; the two things that really mattered in a sniping partner, but Boone would trade her in a heartbeat for Six, bad shot and all. He had to ask the new girl for ammo, something he'd never had to do with Six. The courier cooked better too, Six could work wonders with a camp-fire, though her skills in an actual kitchen were definitely lacking. They both had the capacity to ply Boone with questions; he'd told them both about Carla and they both knew of Bitter Springs. But where Six had all but dragged him to Bitter Springs, forcing him to confront his pain and assured him, always assuring him, that he didn't have bad things coming to him, his new partner had pressed her lips to his and promised to show him a different way to forget the pain. 

It had never really occurred to Boone that she was in love with him. She told him often enough, though he never responded. As time went on it became more a plea than a declaration. Boone heard the words, but didn't really connect with it. Love was something he'd had with Carla; it wasn't transferable. That last week was hard on her, as he had known it would be. But he still couldn't find it within himself to care all that much; he'd already decided what he was going to do next.   
  
Ironically, though he had spent the last four years with first recon beside him at every moment, his last night was spent alone. Orders came dispatching them elsewhere, and as Boone was discharging the following day it hardly seemed worth him going. The orders were last minute and unexpected; his partner was stricken and almost cried. She'd told him again she loved him, told him where she'd be headed after her own tour ended not all that far away, invited him to go stay at her place until she could catch up with him. She took his no gracefully, despite the tears that he saw her desperately trying to conceal. In fact she managed a smirk, ' _always said you'd break my heart_.'  
  
With his discharge papers signed, Boone made his way over to the Cassidy caravan office. Cass nearly split her sides laughing when he asked, ever so politely, unable to keep from smiling, if she might have room for a caravan guard for her next run to the strip. They'd barely made it out of the Hub when the trooper, breathless, caught up with him, and told him, apologetically, that his partner was dead. Made a rookie mistake on watch and gave away her position. Boone grunted that it was a shame, and though he felt a pang for the loss of a fellow soldier, managed to care about as much as he had the night before when he'd broken her heart but walked away regardless.   
  
When Boone made it to the Strip, he picked up his caps, dusted himself off and headed for the Lucky 38. Six was in the suite, naturally, walking around in a daze, her husband -  _ex_ husband - having cleared the place of his things just that morning. When the elevator dinged, she had looked up, almost hopeful that he was coming back. The relief she felt when Boone stepped out was palpable, and he dropped his duffel bag and caught her as she threw herself into his arms. She cried for a long time; for her husband, for her other husband, for Boone - actually standing here, for the life she'd imagined after the Dam. She didn't voice it, they had never needed words. Instead he held her until the sobs subsided into gentle sniffling, and eventually relinquished her, so she could throw together their dinner - her skills in the kitchen had improved in four years.   
  
The following morning found her slipping into her old leather armour, her faithful 10mm on her hip. She went to call Boone, to tell him what she intended to do, but found him waiting in the rec room, already armoured up, his rifle cleaned and ready. She smiled, he didn't, but his characteristic frown seemed softer at least. Together they stepped out of the Lucky '38, out of the Strip and they headed into the burning sands; the pip-boy on her arm pointing them towards some poor soul who needed help. 


End file.
